


Snowswallow

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 01:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivan has been at the military unit as long as anyone can remember, and seems to be just another soldier. But as soon as the unit is deployed, strange and uncanny things begin happening.<br/>Matthew, a new recruit and Ivan's one friend, wonders about these occurrences. In searching for the answers, he finds a lot more than he expected.<br/>Just what is this pointless war really about? Who, or what, is Ivan? And how is he involved in the mysterious Snowswallow project?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Snowy Patrol with Ivan

Chapter 1: A Snowy Patrol with Ivan

 

“ What is this?” The young man asks. He is tall and thin, wrapped in a long beige coat and green trousers. He has strange piercing violet eyes. His hair, which is so blond it is nearly white, whips round in the storm. He brushes it off his face. Again. It’s going to be a long night. He trudges through the snowstorm with a large gun strapped across his back, blinking to keep the white flecks out of his eyes. “Sometimes I don’t even know anymore.” There is no one there, and he doesn’t really know who he is talking to, the universe maybe. He shakes his head.

“Ivan, Ivan, wait for me!” Another voice, calling him from beyond the snow. He turns, the tails of the stained and dirty scarf he always wears dancing in the wind behind him. Ivan blinks again, clearing his eyes of snow, and peers into the white horizon.

“Oh, Matvey. I’m over here.” He smiles a bit, as the other runs up beside him.

“For the last time, it’s Matthew.”

“But Matvey is easier to say.”

“Crazy Russian.”

Matthew is shorter than the other man, but not small. His blond hair curls around his head, seeming to pry it’s way out from under his red and white hat in some desperate escape attempt. His eyes are purple like Ivan’s, but softer, closer to a lavender hue, and hidden behind think round glasses that fog up in the cold. He takes them off and wipes them on the inside of his jacket collar.

“You didn’t have to come you know,” says Ivan. He turns and resumes his trek, Matthew hurrying to keep up, his own firearm bouncing on his back.

“Yes I did.” He grits his teeth. “I know how lonely you get when you leave on a patrol by yourself, and besides, only a fool would go out alone in weather like this.”

The Russian laughs at this, his breath steaming in the cold night air. “I’m a lot smarter than you give me credit for Matvey; I know the territory, it’s you who should be worried.” Matthew had arrived at the northern base one week previously, explaining how he had come here, from the distant territory of Canada, to serve his country on the most perilous front et cetera et cetera. He had been, and still was, the most enthusiastic person there, and he had fallen in with Ivan.

No one knew much about Ivan, not even Ivan.

Either way, Matthew had started to accompany the Russian on his night patrols, something no one else had ever done before. The Canadian had become the closest thing Ivan had to a friend.

They walk side by side through the storm. Matthew turns to his companion, “I heard you talking to yourself earlier, saying how you don’t know about anything.” He looks up at Ivan’s face, perhaps expecting some sort of explanation. Ivan just smiles his strange little smile.

“I wasn’t talking to myself.”

“Whom were you talking to then?”

Ivan is silent. Matthew sees the look on his face and decides not to press the question.

“Well what were you talking about? You said ‘I don’t even know anymore’”

“Ah,” Ivan says, turning away again, and grimacing into the storm. “I really don’t know what I live for anymore. What gets me up in the morning? I couldn’t say.” Matthew frowns a bit: Ivan never seems to sleep, so how can he wake up? The Russian continues, “Maybe it’s this,” he heaves the gun slung over his shoulder, but doesn’t seem convinced. He snorts, “Patrol in a snowstorm, this what I’ve come to?”

“What do you mean ‘This is what I’ve come to’?” Asks Matthew.

Ivan shakes his head. “You live for the fight when that’s all that you’ve got.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Bon Jovi, Living on a Prayer” He laughs at the irony, a soldier quoting a pacifist.

Matthew starts to ask how the Russian knows the song then stops himself. He shouldn’t pry, and besides, there are radios t the base. They walk off, patrolling the barbed wire border, and disappear into the snowy night.


	2. Red-Gold

Chapter 2: Red-Gold

A digital clock blinks in the corner of the room displaying the time in red numbers: it is five o’clock in the morning. Matthew rolls over, burrowing deeper into the thick yet still somewhat inadequate blankets on his bed. The patrol ended six hours ago, but Ivan still hasn’t entered the dorm shared by the twenty young recruits. Matthew had no idea where he had gone, no one usually did. 

There was a lot he didn’t know about Ivan: where he came from, why he was here, whom he had left behind. Ivan had been at the base as long as any of the recruits could remember, but he didn’t seems to have aged much at all, the oldest of them, a man whom everyone called Gil, had been there for over seven years, he maintain that Ivan looked no older now than when Gil had met him all those years ago. Of course, Ivan never spoke about himself to anyone. Except me, Matthew thinks. 

Who is Ivan? Matthew wonders as he falls asleep. Who is he, and why do I get the feeling that he was lying, that he knows exactly why he is here?

**********

The important officers of the base are all lined up behind their raised table, ready to make an announcement, when the recruits slump in the next morning. As they file into the room they all visibly straighten as they see some of the most important men in the army. The sergeant leads them in a crisp formal salute, the sudden appearance of the officers may be impromptu, but the recruits are well trained. 

“At ease men.” Says an impressive man in a Captain’s uniform, “you are probably wondering why I am here today…” 

“Must be pretty important for a captain to come all the way out here.” Matthew whispers to Ivan, who stands beside him in the line. 

Ivan hisses a reply from between his teeth, “That’s not just any captain, that’s Captain Kirkland.” The captain Kirkland is in charge of the expansion of the country, and in eliminating all obstacles to that goal, namely the fact that troops are out numbered almost ten to one. It was rumoured that he was developing a person-weapon hybrid specially designed to kill, but no one could say what the creature would look like or what it could do. 

Matthew exhales sharply. “W-wow.”

“… We need more men on the battlefield, so, as of now, you have all completed your training. You shall be the 72nd light division. Prepare to move out before tonight.” The Captain surveyed the line of young men. “All of you are needed.” As he said this he looked directly at Ivan, who seemed to shiver slightly under the other man’s gaze. “You may eat now.”

“What was that about Ivan? He was talking right to you, not to the rest of us.” Matthew asks, but Ivan just shakes his head and sits down at a table. They ate the rest of the meal in silence, listening to the officer’s strategizing up at their table. 

Later that day, after training exercises in the yard, the recruits are sent to the dorm to pack, after about a minute, Ivan joins Matthew, sitting on the Canadian’s bed. He fiddles with the blanket as Matthew folds his personal belongings into a canvas bag. 

“You done packing already?” Matthew pants, breathing heavily after his frenzied activity. Ivan nods. “Don’t you have any, like, letters or stuff, family pictures, old clothes or anything?” The Russian smiles sadly, he doesn’t. Matthew finishes his task, and heaves the bag over his shoulder. “Lets go put this in the truck.” Ivan grabs his own much smaller bag and follows. 

Outside they find the sergeant standing beside a transport vehicle. Salutes are exchanged.

“Go put you things at the back of the truck”

“Yes sir”

“Y-yes sir” Matthew curses himself, that stupid stammer had returned; he couldn’t speak to anyone without it. Except Ivan. Matthew pushes that strange thought out of his head and climbs into the truck. 

**********

“You’ve barely said anything all day, are you sure you’re okay?” Matthew asks the Russian. They’re sitting on the back of one of the transport vehicles, feet hanging over the edge. The truck is heading south, taking them to the front line. 

“I don’t know. I guess it seems as if we’re becoming gun-fodder.” Ivan looks out as he says this, stubbornly avoiding eye contact. 

“Why di I get the sense that you are lying Ivan?”

Ivan sighs. “I don’t trust the Captain, and it just feels as if this is just war for the sake of fighting, as if we’re not actually fighting for anything. You know?”

Matthew doesn’t know. “I’m certain the Captain would never send innocent men to their deaths, and of course this war has a purpose, isn’t that the point.”

“I’m not so sure.”

The sunset paints the flat fields of snow red and gold as they drive by. Matthew looks out over them, not really seeing. What Ivan has said makes a great deal of sense: they’ve been fighting this war for over eighteen years with no clear progress on either side, its not as if they need the extra territory either, the country does find by itself. 

Trying to distract himself, Matthew says, “I’ve never seen snow this colour before, the red is kinds pretty.”

“Da,” says the Russian, “It would be beautiful if it didn’t remind me so much of blood.”

They sit in silence for the rest of the ride.


	3. 72nd Light Division

Chapter 3: 72nd Light Division

Matthew blinks himself awake, it seemed he hadn’t slept in hours, which was more or less true. He caught a few catnaps yesterday, but none lasted for more than a couple of minutes. He rolls over; then is hits him, the terrible reality of what has happened. Everything is still quiet in the predawn light. No more gunshots, no more yelling or screaming or crying, no more blasts, no more horses. Almost as if the horror of his first day on the front line was just a dream. 

Ivan is still missing from his neat cot at the end of the dugout. It was definitely not a dream. 

**********

The front line was surprisingly underwhelming. Mostly composed of a network of underground tunnels, storage rooms, and a few narrow, wet trenches facing on to a stretch of cratered no-man’s-land a mile wide, the camp looked like a disused play set, abandoned by some careless child. 

Nothing stirred in the pale light and Matthew had felt himself wondering just how bad it could be. Now he could laugh at the irony of the thought. 

They had arrived sometime early the previous morning, at maybe six o’clock, and had hurried to unpack the trucks. Then they had endured an immensely boring tour of the camp which served only to show just how underfunded they really were. The Division had all been given guns, larger, more destructive ones than they had had at the old base. As the commander had passed a gun to Matthew he had staggered under its weight, it was by far the biggest gun he had ever seen. Ivan had grabbed his shoulder to keep him from falling over. The Russian held his weapon as if he had been doing it all his life. 

“You are now officially the 72nd light division, you must be prepared to fight, to die, for your brothers…” The commander launched off into a well-practised rant. 

“He doesn’t sound very convinced.” Said Matthew. Ivan had grunted his agreement. 

The day had continued in a whirlwind of orders, schedules, expectations, unpacking, and battle plans. At lunch, Matthew had wolfed down his meal then turned to quiz Ivan about his strange actions. 

“You seem to know this place very well?”

“Da.”

“How?”

“I have a good sense of direction.”

“How did you know how to hold that gun? You were like a professional soldier.”

“Spasibo. Thank you. I lived at the base for a long time.”

“That’s hardly an answer!”

“Isn’t it?”

Matthew had sighed; the Russian was being uncharacteristically tight lipped. “Why are you being so quiet Ivan?” He had asked. Ivan had only shaken his head. 

Later that after noon, they had been on watch, they’re sole job being to peer through the barbed wire, peek over the craters and mountains that occupied no-man’s-land, to detect any suspicious movement from the enemy.

Matthew hadn’t actually seen anyone from the enemy before. Based on the propaganda and war posters he had assumed they were horrific, monstrous men with grey skin (and quite possibly horns), who ate babies and tortured people for fun. Why would there even be a war if the enemy weren’t evil? He had checked the time again, seven o’clock, and remarked to Ivan that it was getting surprisingly dark for that time when the siren sounded. 

It shrieked through the night, followed by shouts. 

“Battle stations, to you battle stations.” A man in a uniform yelled. Matthew was already running. He had grabbed his gun then went to sit in the shallow dugout in one of the trenched closest to no-man’s-land and expected Ivan to have followed him. But Ivan never appeared. Matthew had started to worry, then the first shots were fired and he found it impossible to concentrate on anything else. 

What followed was indubitably the worst two hours in Matthew’s life. 

He shot, and ducked, and shot again. Wiping the sweat and melted snow from his eyes, he had struggled to fire the heavy gun. The air smelled of smoke and singed ground, and something else, a coppery smell that he quickly learnt was blood. But that wasn’t the worst thing. Not the terrible smell of fiery death, not the sight of the sky lit up with the blasts of heavy artillery, but the sounds, the terrible, terrible sounds. Guns clacked and blasted, bombs hit the ground with a deafening roar, men screamed in pain and fear. Matthew had felt like hiding, crawling into the precious silence that he had always cherished and staying there for as long as possible. No! He couldn’t, he had to fight the evil across the barbed wire line. 

Matthew had reloaded, lifted his gun up and prepared to fire then…. He hadn’t. He looked over the top of the trench and saw men. They looked just like all the other men he knew, they looked like the commanders, they looked like the other trainees, they looked like his own father. They weren’t monsters. 

Then Matthew did something he would never forget, it would sit on his conscience until his dying day. He shot anyway.

His bullets found their targets and screams of agony erupted from the wounded men. He dropped back, shell-shocked.

“I-I…I killed them.”

“Sure ya did son, but you saved our asses so it’s not a bad thing.” One of the other men said. 

Matthew had sat, suddenly, in the mud, trying to get his breath back. He felt choked, as if air refused to enter his lungs. He had looked down at his filthy boots and concentrated on taking long, deep breaths. Somewhere above him, a man shouted another order.

“Stop firing, operation Snow Swallow is go.”

What is operation Snow Swallow, Matthew had wondered. It would have to be good; those enemy soldiers had been very close. He had seen men being dragged away, covered in blood. Who knew what the casualties were. 

Then the sky had shone, turning purple and white. A bitter wind seemed to sweep the battlefield, colder than anything Matthew had experience before, it fury directed across the scarred landscape to the enemy lines. There was the smell of snow, alcohol, cold steel, and something else, something he couldn’t quite place… Then the world went black.


	4. A Meeting with the Captain

Chapter 4: A Meeting with the Captain

Matthew had blinked; spots still clouded his vision. The strange light, and whatever had caused it, had vanished, leaving utter silence in their wake. Nothing moved, not a single shot was fired, not a single step was taken. The once deafening battlefield was silent as a grave. Shielding his eyes, he peered over the lip of the trench. A scene of utter destruction greeted him. Rubble, barbed wire, guns, and metal were jammed together in heaps soldiers of both sides lay still on the ground, far too still. A part of his brain had realized they were dead, but the rest of it was to shocked to even think. 

Behind him the other men were stirring, moaning and grunting as they stood up. 

“Get down kid,” groaned the man who had spoken to him earlier, “you’ll get shot if ye poke yer head up like that.”

“No, It’s stopped, it’s all stopped.” Said someone else.

Matthew swallowed and turned, “I…I think we won.”

Everyone had cheered, but Matthew could not, he had killed someone, and that was not something he wanted to celebrate. 

The 72nd Light Division had been sent to their beds in one of the bunkers after cleaning up the trenches. Luckily they hadn’t been told to do the really dirty work: collecting the dead. Matthew had almost thrown up as he passed the makeshift hospital on his way to sleep. 

He had been bone weary when he fell into his cot, and soon the room was filled with the snores of his comrades, but he couldn’t sleep. Questions kept running through his mind, tormenting his tired brain. What was this war really about anyway? Had they actually won the battle, or would there be more blood tomorrow? What had created the mysterious light in the sky? Why did there seem to be very few wounded, only dead? And most importantly, where was Ivan?

**********

Matthew pants, trying to calm himself down, he feels as if a truck has hit him. Of course, the memory is a lot more confusing, shocking and painful than a truck. This is no dream, it’s real. 

He buries his head in the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears that threaten his eyes. He swallows a sob, wipes his eyes and sits up. He can’t just give up now. He remember what Ivan said earlier, that he wasn’t sure the war had a purpose, Matthew was starting to agree. 

Ivan, Matthew stands up quietly, he needs to know if Ivan is all right. Matthew creeps out of the room, careful not to disturb anyone. 

He walks down a long passageway, putting on his coat and shoes as he goes. As he turns a corner he sees Ivan sitting on a bench beside a metal door. The old scarf he always wears hides his expression but he seems troubled, or sad. Matthew sits down next to him, sighing with relief.

“Hey Ivan”

“Privyet”

“What’s up?” Ivan doesn’t answer.

“Are you okay?” Again, no answer

“Do you know what happened last night? Like, what created that light and…everything?”

“Da” Before he could say anymore the door opens, several men exit, the last one being Captain Kirkland. He holds the door and waits until all the others are out of earshot.

“Come in Ivan, we have much to discuss.” The captain says, and then he looks down his nose at Matthew. “And you, don’t you have something important to do, we’re at war here.”

Matthew stands, salutes the captain and walks of down the hall, he stops once he turns the corner and listens. After a few seconds, the captain begins to speak again.

“I was very impressed with you performance last night, Operation Snow Swallow will be essential to the war movement…” The voice it cut off as the door closes. Matthew creeps back and puts his ear to the keyhole, but he can’t hear anything. A bell rings somewhere in the camp: breakfast. He reluctantly abandons his friend, and walks towards the kitchen. 

The division eats in resigned silence. Matthew ponders the strange things Captain Kirkland had said, ‘I was very impressed with your performance last night…” did that mean Ivan caused the purple light? No, surely no person could have caused something so destructive. Ivan had probably done something brave, saving a fellow soldier or what have you, and merited congratulations from the Captain. That was it, Ivan was only human, just like Matthew himself. But what is Operation Snow Swallow? He wonders. His thoughts are interrupted but the officer in charge, who rises to shout orders. 

“Thanks to yesterday’s victory, we have sent the enemy running. Now the next logical step is to chase them!”

“Fah, some logic that is.” Whispers Matthew before realizing that there is no one to whisper to. 

“72nd Light Division?” They snap a salute. “You will lead the charge. Now, Operation Snow Swallow will be launching as you attack, so when your commander yells those words, you drop to the ground and cover your eyes. Understood?” 

“Yes, Sir!” They reply.

What strange orders, Matthew thinks; won’t we be easy kills if we just lie there with our eyes closed?

***********

“You may leave now.” Captain Kirkland says, he leans back in his seat and watches Ivan walk to the door. “Remember Ivan, no mercy.”

Ivan shuts the door behind him, leaning against the wall for support. His legs give out and he slides to the floor. Knees pulled up to his chest, Ivan sits there, and his tears soak into his scarf.

“I can’t do this.” He says under his breath, but he has to, he knows that he has to.


	5. Here in the Forest, Dark and Deep

Chapter 5: Here in the Forest, Dark and Deep

The packing has been done, the trucks are loaded, and the 72nd Light Division sits outside waiting for the command to move out. Matthew sits and tries to hide his apprehension. Most of the other men (boys really, none of them are older than twenty-five) are chatting excitedly, the promise of blood and adrenaline fuelling their enthusiasm. Matthew sits alone, twiddling his thumbs. He hasn’t seen Ivan since their hurried conversation outside the Captain’s office the previous day, and that worries him. 

“He hasn’t been the same since we came here, he seems sadder and lonelier now.” Matthew says quietly. “Gah! I’m talking to myself now, this war is making me crazy.”

Matthew stands, suddenly angry, and strides quickly away from the small group of soldiers. No one turns their head to watch him as he goes. No one even notices that he has gone. Once he is out of earshot of the men, Matthew turns and watches them, his rage slowly fading into sadness. “No one sees me, or listens to me, or even knows I’m here.” He says to the air. “Ivan was the only one who ever noticed me, and now he is gone. Even when he is here he is lost within himself.” Matthew gulps back a sob. “I can’t act like this, I have to be strong f-for my family and friends, for this war, for I-Ivan.” The Russian is not dead yet, Matthew tells himself. His face set, he walks purposefully back to the group. 

“ATTEN-SHUN” Yells one of the officers, “Prepare to move out.” The division snaps a salute then climbs into the backs of the trucks. 

The sun is slowly setting as they reach their destination, painting the clouds pink and gold. There is no snow here, just frost and ice. The trucks stop at the edge a dark evergreen forest that climbs a mountain. Behind that more black mountains pierce the skyline. 

“Makes sense that the little rats would crawl straight back to their burrow.” Says a young man with blond hair. Most of the others laugh, but Matthew stays silent; the forest seems very quiet and the little light that enters the thick canopy of evergreens is murky and grey. 

The Division lines up in a diamond like formation in front of the trees and prepares to run.

“W-wait!” Yells Matthew, “something seems odd about this.” He picks up a fist sized stone and hurls it into the forest, it hits the ground, rolls, and comes to rest, nothing happens. 

“Hahaha, they didn’t even bother to cover their tracks.” Roars the blond man. “Move out everyone.”

“I-I’m not so sure.” Says the Canadian. “It seems awful quiet in there.” It is very quiet, not so much as a twig rustles and the ground is perfectly smooth, no trail or animal tracks. “W-where I came from, that is very unnatural.” Matthew whispers, but the others are already running. 

They rush through the silent forest for about ten minutes before they find the enemy stragglers, just as they set up, ready to shoot…. BOOM the first land mine goes off. Matthew is flung aside on to his back, but is unharmed; he scrambles up trying to see in the bitter smoke from the bomb. 

Somewhere someone yells, “Fire at will!” Then everyone is running, Matthew joins them, his mind paralyzed, following the rhythms of the battle. Run, kneel, shoot, repeat. He dodges the most freshly disturbed earth as best he can, but is thrown of his feet several times. The air is filled with muffled screaming, blood, and smoke. If the first battle had been bad, this one is worse. 

As he runs, Matthew dodges and turns, trying to make himself a smaller target, jumping over bodies. He kneels again in a pool of blood and fires, before bounding off again. Once or twice he almost trips over the dead or injured. 

He stops, breathless, and leans against a tree; even the air was clotted with smoke and blood. So much so that Matthew can’t even haul it into his protesting lungs. 

“OPERATION SNOW SWALLOW IS GO” A far off voice yells. Matthew throws himself to the ground and hides his eyes in the filthy sleeve of his coat.

For a few seconds, nothing happens. Then the forest becomes very, very quiet, even quieter than before. Not even the air moves.  
A sound, muffled at first then growing louder, pierces the air. It is almost like a harp, but more ethereal, not seeming to belong to this world at all. High and exquisite, it seems to move, like the wind. Behind the harp like sound, there seems to be female voices singing in another language that doesn’t belong in this millennia. The volume increases until it is excruciating, Matthew puts his hands over his ears, burying his face in the dirt. 

Cold blasts from somewhere in front of his, freezing the air around him, but never seeming to touch him. He squeezes his eyes tight shut, but a blinding light touches them. He can’t help it; he opens his eyes and looks up.

A bright purple and white light bleaches the forest, turning the trees pale and ghostly. The sound drops several pitches; the voices are clearer now, their singing sends shivers down Matthew spine. He squints towards the center of the light, but it is too bright to see anything more than a humanoid figure. The sound turns to some sort of music, picking up speed, rustling the trees and shrubs, and the clothes of the men on the ground. 

A voice begins to speak, confidently and powerfully, in a strange vernacular that seems to come from the winter snow itself. 

Around the human figure, enemy soldiers begin to fall, seemingly choking on nothing. The music becomes sad and the voice trails off, followed by the singing voices. The figure falls, and as it hits the ground, a single bell rings. 

Silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey,  
> If you want a really good idea of what Matthew heard in the forest, look up 'Let my Home be my Gallows' by Hans Zimmer, thats what this section was based on.


	6. The Behemoth

Chapter 6: The Behemoth

Nothing moves. The light has dimmed, leaving the forest in dark green twilight. Behind the Canadian people are beginning to stand up and talk amongst themselves, but he can barely hear them. Matthew feels as if his ears are stuffed with wool. His head hurts, and he rests it on the ground. 

That voice, it was one he recognized. One he knew well. Thinking is too difficult Matthew tells himself burying his suspicions. 

The figure at the center of the light is now just a beige lump on the forest floor, simply a person wearing a long coat. 

A low rumbling shakes the ground, almost too low to be heard; it is rather felt at the bottom of the stomach. Matthew pushes himself up, his head is still too fuzzy too process the situation. Now the earth is visibly shaking. He grabs on to a tree to stay upright. Pine needles rain down as the woods are rattled about. 

People are yelling now, but their voices are still muffled. Matthew starts to walk shakily towards the person in the long coat, who seems to be moving, no speaking, no yelling. What is he saying? 

The figure turns, and reveals his face.

“Ivan!” Matthew yells, he hears his own voice as if from a long way away. Ivan is also speaking, but the Canadian can’t hear it. He continues forwards. 

“-away from hear, leave me, go. Now!” The Russian’s voice cuts through the fuzz. Matthew can hear again. “Leave me Matvey, you have to get away!”

Matthew keeps running forwards, he grabs Ivan and swings him on to his back. “There…is no…way I’m…leaving here…without…you.” Matthew grunts. He turns. 

“No you’ll run faster without me. This is dangerous.” The Russian’s protests fall on deaf ears as Matthew dashes after the others. “I’m not worth saving!” Ivan calls in one last vain objection.

“You are worth it to me!” Matthew yells back. 

“Run faster then, and don’t look back.”

“I’m trying as hard as I can.”

All around them the forest floor is beginning to split and crack, throwing up dust that mixes with the smoke and makes it hard to see. The cracks widen. Something appears to be forcing it’s way up from beneath the mountain. 

“Faster Matvey, you have to out run it.”

The cracks are widening into faults. The faults are widening in to chasms. They connect together, creating an expanding rift between Ivan and Matthew and the other men. 

“Put me down and jump,” yells Ivan.

Matthew grits his teeth, “never!” 

And he jumps. And behind him a massive beast, an enormous disgusting thing busts out from the mountain. The creature was massive, and in the few glances Matthew cast over his shoulder he saw that it was brown and green, it’s skin like rock, almost as if the monster was the mountain. He also caught flashes of grey claws and teeth, and one great rolling eye.

After what seems like an eternity the opposite side of the rift neared, Matthew pumped his legs, trying to swim through the air in an effort to get away. Somewhere in the distance he heard someone screaming, maybe it was him, maybe it was Ivan, or maybe it was one of the unfortunate creatures behind him. All he knew was that, by some superhuman effort of will, he made it to the other side. 

Ivan and Matthew collapsed on the bare and surprisingly cold earth for a moment, but only a moment, after that they were up, half running, half dragging themselves along. Finally stopping before the rest of the division. The other men stood in stunned silence a little ways away, staring up over them at the thing that they’d been running from. Matthew turned to catch a glimpse of it. 

And saw the whole mountain twisting and writhing like the ocean in a gale, clods of dirt blasting up around it like spray. The trees had been brushed down and lay like scales or spines across the expanse of the monster’s back. Cliffs stuck out of the bulge that served as its head, giving the monster massive craggy features. 

The monster finished it’s charge towards the chasm and teetered on the edge; an almost comical sight, had the creature not been so terrifying. It stopped, seeming unwilling to cross the rift, although there was no doubt it could. 

It raised its head.

Its eyes were bloodshot and angry. As tall as houses and as wide as three trucks. 

And as black and soulless and the starless sky.

“M-maple.” Whispers Matthew, in awe. He cranes his neck to the beast. 

Beside him Ivan whispers something under his breath, “balls!” 

It – she, the creature is undoubtedly female - roars, an ear piercing, gut wrenching, stomach turning cry. Everyone sprints away as fast as they can. Matthew grabbing Ivan’s arm and pulling him away.


End file.
